


Welcome Home

by Fistotron



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Size Difference, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:55:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fistotron/pseuds/Fistotron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus and Ultra Magnus welcome Drift back, in Rodimus's own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING(s): Porn. Most definitely porn.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.  
> NOTES: A commission completed as requested by Manicscribble!

Drift returning to the Lost Light is, somehow, not as strange, awkward, or unnatural as it could have been.

All in all most everyone on the ship has accepted him back on board. While there has been a collection of wary glances, few could possibly truly blame Drift for Overlord's presence, not when everyone is well aware of the harsher truth. It wasn't perfect, not nearly, but in a way things seemed a bit more balanced now. Drift had given up almost everything to make sure Rodimus could stay as captain. For what, exactly, Ultra Magnus isn't sure he quite understands More surprisingly is how receptive Megatron has been to the presence of what he would have once construed as a traitor. 

"He realized what we'd become faster than I did," is all the former tyrant had to comment about the matter. It wasn't forgiveness, but he sounded as if he was ready to let the betrayal go.

Ultra Magnus doesn't hate him anymore though admittedly he isn't sure how much he's misjudged him. In the past, Drift had killed _so many_ Autobots and he was prepared to find a reason to arrest the ex-Decepticon and put him away for good. 

Over the course of time, Ultra Magnus has quietly come to realize that it's not as simple as that. It's not as black and white as the life he's lived for years through the war, not when he's come to begrudgingly respect Megatron, had been betrayed by Tyrest, and now has welcomed back the former criminal Drift.

Former. He's already put that into his profile.

It's still impossible to not roll his optics a little whenever Drift has one of his ridiculous theories or talks about auras or some other nonsense, but it's harmless in comparison to other behaviors he's had to put up with from the rest of the crew for the past several months. If the worst Drift can do to Ultra Magnus is mildly irritate him with spiritual talk, then it's not really that terrible. Not in the grand scheme of things. Still, Ultra Magnus had been prepared for mutual respect and hadn't expected anything else.

Certainly hadn't expected that Rodimus suggest to them that they welcome him back on the ship.

"I thought we had. The party at _Swerve's_ ," Ultra Magnus points out.

The smirk that Rodimus wears is such a _knowing_ expression, one that Ultra Magnus has seen very typically when Rodimus is about to say something that'll make Magnus have the urge to say _no_ to whatever he's about to suggest. Magnus steels himself and listens to Rodimus say, "No no, I was thinking of a more personal party. You know..." Trailing off, Rodimus sidles up to Ultra Magnus and lightly bumps his arm against Magnus's. "Just the three of us. Something more intimate."

Months ago, the implication probably would have gone over his head. Even if he could interpret it then, Ultra Magnus would have definitely said no. Right now, he pauses to process the suggestion with a faint frown. Should he feel flattered that Rodimus wants to include him? Really, he feels more flustered than anything else, but he doesn't think he wants to refuse.

"As long as it doesn't interrupt our scheduled duties," Ultra Magnus ends up saying.

Rodimus snorts a little. "Here I was, all prepared to convince you in case you said no!"

A lot's changed. Magnus doesn't have to tell him that.

They choose to meet in Ultra Magnus's room, mostly on account of the fact his berth will support his weight. Granted, he could leave the armor, but he isn't prepared to share that part of himself yet. It's something he's accepted about himself, that Minimus Ambus is who he is, but he can't bring that to Drift this time. Maybe another occasion.

The schedule's clear and they're all present. How to initiate, he isn't sure. This is hardly a specialty for Magnus.

Size, though. Size is a thing. Ultra Magnus glances at the two of them, uncertain of how to approach this. "How did you want to do this?" he asks Rodimus bluntly. Magnus considers, then turns his head to Drift. "Or should I be asking you that?" Magnus offers, trying to be considerate of their nominal third-in-command.

"Really, whatever you're comfortable with," Drift assures with a faint grin, holding up a hand. "Don't worry about me."

"Mm." Ultra Magnus forms his more familiar expression of frowning in thought. 

It's hard to determine what works best, but it starts off simply. For all of the impatience Rodimus has, he isn't cruel and takes his time with Drift and Ultra Magnus alike. They share simple contact to begin with: Rodimus takes Magnus's hand and presses his cheek against the palm, grinning up to him. Ultra Magnus can feel Drift's fingers up his back, and he almost doesn't know _what_ to do at first. 

Not until they start to share kisses. Somehow he'd almost forgotten that was a thing that people did.

Rodimus is hot and fast, and Magnus feels clumsy by comparison when his captain nibbles and tastes him so thoroughly. If one could stumble with their mouth, that was essentially what Ultra Magnus ends up doing. On the other hand, Drift takes his time and lets Ultra Magnus just lead _everything_ , letting Magnus understand both of their boundaries. It's certainly more patient than he was expecting by any interaction with Drift, but it's very telling all the same. Quietly, Magnus is grateful, never having expected that he'd appreciate this from Drift.

Both of them fine in their strange physical language to convince Ultra Magnus to get comfortable on the berth. It doesn't seem right that he should be the one immediately relaxing; this is for Drift, isn't it? This is to welcome him back, but he supposes that if they did this in any other way, it would be cumbersome for him to be trying to maneuver around the recharge slab being the (sort of) largest one present.

Hands... wander, in ways Ultra Magnus feels like he should know but he's barely catching up on. His palms and fingers are much larger than theirs, and at best he finds right now he can rest them on each back. Drift touches Ultra Magnus like he's delicate in slow, smooth motions, careful along his plating. Magnus wants to tell him that he won't be offended at more, but finds the words hard to say, choking into quiet groans. Insistent fingers _tug_ and tease at his seams from Rodimus, who smiles wildly goes in for another kiss. Both methods of contact are positively electrifying, running through the armor and into Magnus's personal frame.

Magnus swallows and steels himself. He doesn't like to think of himself as particularly shy, but this is not something he's had much experience in, and there certainly have never been manuals or rules of engagement in regards to interfacing. Making a mistake seems like a daunting possibility, but if he lays there and does nothing is that almost _worse?_

Hesitantly, he moves his hand to trail down Rodimus's back, his large fingers brushing against his aft. His captain doesn't seem particularly alarmed, but instead forms a warm, welcoming smile. 

Rodimus is _encouraging_ him. 

When his mouth meets Drift's again, Ultra Magnus is cautiously touching the ex-Decepticon once more. His palm leaves his back, instead absently stroking up a thigh. Yet, the idea of touching anything between his legs is almost too much for Ultra Magnus to think of, even if that's exactly the purpose of this little... reunion.

Their lips part and Drift offers a crooked smile. "It'll be fine," he says.

Ultra Magnus isn't sure what to say.

When Drift gently pushes his hand up so that Magnus's palm rubs against the ex-Decepticon's interface panel, he definitely doesn't know what to say. While he's alarmed, Ultra Magnus also finds himself completely captivated by how Drift spreads his shapely thighs and shifts his hips to roll against Magnus's hand. It's distracting, and his fingers twitch. 

There's a pause, then Ultra Magnus feels the paneling slide open, exposing an incredibly wet valve. His fingers twitch again, brushing against the rim. When Drift shudders, Ultra Magnus briefly wonders if that's a bad sign until he finds Drift pushing his exposed equipment at Magnus's hand. Carefully, Ultra Magnus pushes the tip of his finger in, earning an eager nod and a murmured request for more from the warrior. Certain to not harm him, Ultra Magnus presses his finger the rest of the way in as Drift gasps and twitches.

"Good. It's good," Drift reassures, his valve squeezing down on the finger with encouragement. "I promise."

The reassurance is helpful. Ultra Magnus nods, curling his finger slightly as he observes quietly about the sensations. It's slick inside, tight. While he can't see what he's doing, it's Drift's reactions and words that are helpful. He'll just have to go by that.

And to his surprise, Drift's reactions are pleasant. _Very_ pleasant.

"What do you think? Wanna open up?" Rodimus muses, tapping on Ultra Magnus's panel. "I mean, I assume the armor comes with--"

"It does," Ultra Magnus cuts him off, determined to not show more of his growing embarrassment.

"I kinda wonder, did you find out for yourself or did Tyrest tell you or..."

"This is definitely _not_ a conversation I really want to delve into right now," Magnus grumbles, but relents and opens his panel.

When the spike pressurizes, Magnus can feel it as if it really were his own. It is completely proportionate to the rest of them, thick and -- much to Magnus's continued flustering -- very erect. At the base are some biolights, the middle of it suitably ribbed.

"Wow," is the first thing Drift says, optics bright and flushed.

"Wow. Is _wow_ good?" Magnus asks with some level of skepticism.

Drift grins. "Wow is definitely good. I promise."

"What do you think, Drift?" Rodimus curls a hand around the base of Ultra Magnus's spike. It startles the larger Autobot, his engine rumbling curiously. "Will it fit?"

"Absolutely not!" Ultra Magnus says sharply.

Drift's optics flicker for a moment. The expression he wears is hard to read, but he seems like he's trying to not show that he's a bit hurt by the refusal. "Not that I won't respect that choice, but why not?"

"You. You're." Magnus hesitates, then slides his finger out from Drift's valve awkwardly. He can feel how the lubricants cling to his plating. "You feel. Small."

"Oh. _Oh._ " Drift chuckles and touches his hand to Ultra Magnus's wrist. "You think you're too big for me?"

Ultra Magnus just frowns.

"Look, Magnus. I appreciate your concern. I'm touched, really. But I can adjust. I _want_ your spike in me." Drift smiles broadly. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it wouldn't work out. All right?"

"Only if you're certain." Ultra Magnus huffs softly. "I don't have any interest in your discomfort."

"Well, luckily for all of us, I don't either."

It's a bit of a readjustment in positioning. In order to make this work and be certain that no harm comes to Drift, Ultra Magnus sits up. It causes him to essentially curl _over_ Drift, making this size difference all the more explicit. The notion causes his engine to hum for reasons he doesn't quite understand yet, but more importantly he can watch Drift like this. One hand rests on Drift's hip, the other to a thigh as he helps the warrior lift up slightly, just enough so that he can be pressed down.

First, Magnus feels the tip of his spike against the dripping entrance, and it shocks him how _good_ that feels. Just that alone makes him interested to see what it's like to be completely sheathed. He exhales hotly against the back of Drift's neck, and lets him dictate how far they go and how it'll fit. When the head of his spike pops in past the exterior lips, Ultra Magnus doesn't hide his groan and neither does Drift.

"Damn," Rodimus murmurs, watching in Ultra Magnus's lap, sitting in front of Drift.

Gradually, Drift slides down futher, seating himself completely. It's _insanely_ tight, and Ultra Magnus cannot fathom how Drift's managed to fit all of him. He shudders and finds his hips twitching, struggling to remain still. He wants to give Drift a moment to adjust to the girth.

"All right. Spike?" Rodimus requests of Drift, shifting on the berth to adjust his positioning.

"Mmn? Sure." Drift extends the cord, and Ultra Magnus finds himself watching how it curves, stiff in the air.

He quickly finds himself more engrossed as Rodimus takes Drift's spike into his mouth as if it was _easy_. His lips are tight around the base, and he moves his head in a slow bob.

That, along with the sensation of Drift around his length, makes Ultra Magnus finally roll his hips, clutching Drift to himself. The warrior gasps, hands tight on Magnus's wrists. "Keep going," he groans out, and Ultra Magnus obliges.

He rocks into Drift, feeling the slip and slide of his valve. As Drift bounces in his lap, it causes him to frag Rodimus's mouth and throat. By the looks of things, Rodimus isn't deterred by this at all, instead groaning encouragement as he noisily slurps and presses his head down to take Drift in further to his intake. Ultra Magnus hisses softly, bucking his hips freely, finding himself lost in the simple pleasure of interface. While messes are usually something that disgust or bother him, the sensation of lubricants drooling onto his hips is no distraction.

When Drift overloads, it's a short cry crackled with static. Valve walls squeeze tight over Ultra Magnus, startling him to follow; the amount of fluid released from Ultra Magnus is enough that it's almost too much for Drift to take, most of it dripping back out down his legs and onto the berth. He watches Rodimus swallow what Drift has to give, unabashedly _good_ at it.

"Wow," Drift says again, quiet.

Ultra Magnus agrees.


End file.
